


The Watcher

by oooknuk



Series: Try a little tenderness [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: An interlude between 'Journey's End' and 'Move towards life'.





	The Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: None. Mature themes and a little bad language. Schmoop and sap.

He hasn't moved things around much, I notice. The couch is still where we'd liked it, in front of the fireplace. He's framed a couple of his sketches of me, and hung them in the corner. I'm not surprised - after ten years, we'd pretty much got the place how we'd liked it.

He's fallen asleep on the sofa, head tipped back against the back of the chair, the qube in his hand, the wall speakers still pouring out sound quietly. He'd done a good job on it - the colours were beautiful, the sound perfect. I smile at the photo taken the night the new recording was made. It had been a hell of a night. I can see Amanda, and Mac, giggling at Methos up on stage, telling one of his most embarrassing stories about me - you know, that one with ... aw hell, everyone knew that goddamn dog would do that if I sang that song. Methos had never let me forget it.

I sit down carefully next to him, and take the qube out of his hand. His eyes open and as he sees me, he smiles. "Joe," he sighs, and snuggles close to me.

I stroke his hair, wrapping one arm around him. "How are you, kid?"

"Damn, Joe. Missing you, like always."

"Miss you, too."

He picks up my hand which is resting in my lap, and begins to kiss the back of it, and the tip of each finger. "Miss your hands, Joe. Miss your beard. Miss _you_ so damn much."

"I know." I can smell the whiskey he's been drinking, and the carrot soup he had for his supper, and the warm alive scent that is just him. "You're taking this well. You know - me being here, and everything."

He lifts his head, and stares at me sadly. I touch the dark marks of grief and sleeplessness under his eyes. "Well, I'm either dreaming, insane or dead." I lean forward and kiss him. He licks his lips, as if trying to catch the taste of me. "I _am_ dreaming, aren't I?"

"Yeah, kid. I think you have to be."

His eyes crease up a little - he knows what I'm saying - but then he smiles. "Are you happy, Joe? Is it good?"

"I'm happy, Methos. Look." I lift my foot, and roll up the trouser leg - I've always been relieved Methos had buried me in my good suit.

"Well, look at you," he says in delight. "You got them back?"

"Sure. No gimps up here. Nobody's sick, or miserable. Some of us who've gone on ahead are a little lonely, but we get to drop in every so often, if we want."

"You left it two whole years to come by?"

No anger, just wistfulness. That's harder to deal with. "No, kid. I just never let you see me before."

He nods as if that makes sense to him. "Why now?"

"Because I miss you, Methos. I know what it's like, know how things have been for you." I touch his face again, and he leans into my hand. "Wanted you to know I'm okay. Wanted to touch you again." Well, fuck. That was just plain stupid of me. He'd been doing really well up to then, but then a single tear formed in his right eye, and dripped down, even though he tried to keep smiling. I wiped his cheek with the back of my fingers. "I'm sorry. Maybe I should've let it be."

He takes my hand in his again, and stares at me with overbright dark, beautiful eyes. "No, no, I'm just happy to see you. But I'm not going to remember this, am I?"

Always too smart for me. "No, kid. I'm sorry. You know why."

"Yeah, I figured. Will I remember that you were happy?"

"Maybe. Hope so."

He nods again. "Joe, can I ask? Is he ...?"

I'm expecting the questions. Hell, we talk about him all the time, it's natural he's thinking about us too. "Yeah, he's here. Not causing a ruckus, though."

"And is she ...?"

"Her too. We talk a lot. She's just as beautiful as ever, Methos."

"Is she happy?"

It's only just a few moments since I saw her and I can answer truthfully. "Yeah, she's good. I make sure of that."

He closes his eyes, smiles a little sadly, then looks at me again. "I used to think ... well, I wished I'd done more for her. More for you, too."

I pull his head to my shoulder. "Like what?" I ask, rubbing my beard against his cheek, the way he liked it.

He sighs. "Oh, I dunno. Maybe if I'd tried harder, neither of you would have had to die so soon. Better medical treatment, maybe. Stupid stuff."

I tug his earlobe a little, like I used to when I was a little mad at him. "Boy, you got that right. What the hell could you have done?"

"That's the rub, of course," he says wryly. "Hard for a doctor to admit defeat."

"It's not up to you or me or anyone, you know that. We go when we go. You can't change it. Anyway, how are you doing? Is Mac looking after you?"

"I thought you've been keeping tabs on me, Joe," he says, smiling a little.

"Yeah, but I like to hear you talk, Methos." He laughs at that. I points at the qube. "I really like that. Jordan still screws that 'A' chord."

"I'll be sure to tell him." He looks away, moves a little, and stares into the cold fireplace. "Joe, it's really hard sometimes ...." I rub his shoulder. I know it's hard. Watching him in so much pain hurts more than I ever dreamed it would. "It's just seems impossible that I'll ever stop missing you."

"You won't, Methos. You know that. Like I'll never stop missing you."

He grimaces a little, and then turns to face me. "Will I see you again? You know ... when ...."

I know what he means. "Absolutely. We'll have a party. I'll even lay on free beer."

He laughs, but then he starts to cry, silently like he'd done once or twice when we were together. Like he was in too much pain even to share the sound. I pull him close again. "Aw, kid, come on. You know the pain don't last forever."

"I know, I know," he chokes. He pulls out a handkerchief and blows his nose loudly, making an obvious effort for me. "And it's been okay, mostly. Mac's been kind, Amanda ... Rodney .... did you know he's a dad now?"

"Yeah, I saw. Great kid. Calling her Joanna was nice of him."

"His idea. Life's pretty good, really." He turns his head to me, and his eyes give the lie to his words. "But it just seems so fucking pointless at times. I get almost frantic - if anything happened to Mac, like it happened to you, then I think I couldn't go on."

"I can't give you any promises, Methos." But, man oh man, I wish I could. "You did teach me one thing, though. Carpe diem, man. Carpe fucking diem. Mortal, Immortal, don't matter. You take your love and your happiness when you find them and run with them."

He slides his arms around my waist, like he never meant to let me go. "I don't seem to have much of either these days."

"Bull," I say, but gently. "There's love for you out there. Joy too - not every day is bad, is it?"

"No," he admits. "Maybe ... maybe ... it'd be easier ...."

If I don't do this again, yeah, I know that now. "All you'll remember in the morning is that you had a nice dream, I promise."

"It's the nice dreams that make it so hard," he says, and the tears return along with the anger I heard so often. "Damn you, Joe Dawson, why the hell did you have to die on me first!"

I don't take it to heart, just kiss his cheek, and he lays his face against mine in silent apology for the outburst. "Because you're the strong one, kid." He makes a rude noise, right in my ear. "It's true. You can take it. I donėt think I could have. I'd have been dead in six months, if you'd lost your head. And speaking of which, you son of a bitch, next time I catch you even thinking of throwing a fight, I'm gonna kick your sorry ass, hear me?"

He grins, even though I could hear from his breathing he's still crying a little. "Yes, Papa Joe. Mac said you'd say that."

"He got that right."

"Are you really always around?"

"Always. So is she. I've met a few people up here who Methos-watch full time."

"I should try harder to be good, then, I guess."

I catch his face in my hands. "No, just be you. That's enough." Then I kiss his forehead. "Are you gonna be okay?" He shrugs, neither yes or no. "You know it gets better. Mac needs you, Rodney needs his friend. Don't waste away, Methos. You promise me that."

"I won't. But, Joe," he reproaches me, "if I can't get a little maudlin on your anniversary, then when can I?"

I shake my head. "No, just forget it. It ain't good for you."

"You want me to pretend I don't miss you?" he says a little tetchily.

I cup his face, rub his cheeks with my thumbs. "No, I want you to remember me. But you gotta move on too. You got a lot of years ahead of you. More than most. Don't waste them being unhappy."

He sighs again, and lays his head on my shoulder. "Joe, will you stay?"

"I can't ...."

"No, I meant, tonight. Until the morning?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

He looks down at his hands, and then up at me again, shyly. "This is going to sound stupid ... but ... I'd like to dance with you. Just once, on your new pins."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

He holds out his hand and I stand up. The music from the qube must be on repeat because one of the early tracks starts, and he smiles suddenly. "They're playing our song."

Man, he feels good in my arms. I can feel myself getting all teary holding him close, and swaying to the sound of my own voice. "Joe, God, I want you," he whispers. "Not a single day goes by when I don't cry for you."

"I know, Methos. I see it and it kills me, but it's just how it is. You know that."

"Knowing it doesn't make it easier. Not even after five thousand years."

We dance in the darkened room for what seems like hours, to the music my friends made for me in my honour, illuminated by the colours and lights my love designed to go with the sounds. "I wish this night would never end," he says.

"You know it has to. You know you can't live like this."

I wish he could remember this, at least. But I will be there anyway. "Hey, now, no more crying," I say, patting him. "You're getting my suit all wet, and it's gotta last a long time."

He laughs, and wipes his eyes, which still leak tears a little. "Oh, so sorry, Joe. Let's make sure we keep our priorities after all."

"You moosh," I say, mock punching him, before hauling him back for a kiss, and stroking his hair off his face. "You look tired. You don't sleep much."

He shrugs again. "Some nights are worse than others. It was always like that before I married you."

"Well, tonight you sleep with me. Come sit on the sofa, get comfortable."

I lean back against the cushions, and he rests against me. "Joe, would you ...? "

I'd known he was going to ask. "You want me to sing to you, right?"

"Do you mind?" he asks anxiously.

"No, I don't mind. But you need to go to sleep."

He pulls my hands around in front of him, and holds them tight. "Joe, I still love you. I'll always love you."

"That goes for me too, kid, you know that. Now, close your eyes and remember what I said. Take your chances when you get them."

"Sounds like you're trying to tell me something - can you see the future?"

"No, I can't and even if I could, I wouldn't tell you. Do I look like a moron?"

He twists around and grins at me. "No, Joe. You don't. You look like the smart man I married." He's wearing my wedding ring and he sees me looking at it. "Did you mind? I couldn't bear to bury it with you, but later I thought you might have been angry with me."

"Hell, I donėt mind. Whatever you need, to get through, Methos, that's all I ever wanted for you. All anyone who loves you wants."

He turns around again, and rests his head on my chest, clutching a pillow to his own. In the morning, he'll think he fell asleep like that, and that's okay. It has to be that way, we both know. "Sing, Joe," he orders softly. And so I do, quietly along with the music playing in the room until his breathing evens out, and I know he's stopped crying and fallen asleep.

I stay with him until dawn, and he sleeps peacefully all that night. I'm just going to slip away quietly, but then the phone rings. I hide from him quickly.

He looks around, a little confused, as if he's expecting to see something, but it isn't there. He touches the qube, which is still playing quietly, and sadness flickers across his face as he presses the 'off' spot. The he stretches and walks over to the phone.

"Mac? What the hell? .... Oh, damn, that's bad luck .... no, I understand, you'll have to come over here. Have you got an identity who can act as your heir? ... Good, then activate that, I'll expect you soon .... Oh, and Mac, try to avoid being run over by a bus on the way? ...." He grinned, and then laughed at something MacLeod said. "Yeah, yeah. See you soon."

He hangs up, and the smile disappears. He becomes thoughtful as he straightens up the cushions on the sofa. Then he stands still and looks around, picking up the qube, looking at my picture. "He needs me, Joe. I guess there's a reason I'm still here." He puts the qube back on the shelf, where it will probably remain unplayed until the next anniversary.

I brush a kiss I know he can't feel on his cheek. "I'll be here, Methos. Always." Is that smile for me? Or because he's over his sadness from a day which only reminded him of loss? Didn't matter. I just like to see him smile.

I take a last look at him before I go. He's already getting ready for the day, getting on with things. He'll be fine, I know. Mac needs him. That's good.

I hope that he finds someone who'll make him happy again. Someone who'll love him, and need him, and care for him. If I can't be with him, I want him to have the best. And whoever, whatever - I'm still gonna be watching over him.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
